It's a time for martyrs now, as the rap game that's in a crisis

Record sales continue to decline, record labels are mergin

And cats got confused on what's real hip hop





We got the real live spitters in the game of rap!

All you dudes say you nice, but you niggas is wack!

Where my lyricists at? ! Where my lyricists at? !

Where the fuck you niggas at? ! Where the lyricists at? !





I could carry the weight of Pun, ressurect Big L's lungs

And jack every single beat that Jam-Master Jay spun

I'm the lyrical son of Rakim, the jab of Bernard Hopkins

The voice of B.I.G. and Pac overlooked by Johnnie Coch-aran

The KRS-One doctrine, the monster in these niggas

That be posterin I'm robbin 'em in a whip they girlfriend drivin 'em

I'm butter without the margarine, the crack without the sizzle

The rain without the drizzle, the hammer without the chizle

The baller without the dribble, the scribble Scrabble, the Writer's Block

I bibble babble have the spit and flip the rip the chain that shackles

Had to fight and grapple and tackle the Rotten Apple

I traveled from Camden and met the Drama King at the tabernacle

Gave me the juice like a Snapple, ran with it like the Olympics

Encrypted my signature on templets for the cake like Krimpets

Move Atlantis, I Am Legend, knock a Troy to Armageddon

Lyrical prophet the hip hop heavens, raised by Latin Florida Evans





We got the real live spitters in the game of rap!

All you dudes say you nice, but you niggas is wack!

Where my lyricists at? ! Where my lyricists at? !

Where the fuck you niggas at? ! Where the lyricists at? !





No lyrical content just typical nonsense

My mental too complexed to listen to garbage

Every lyric I palm breast he grippin a large tek

And killin you God bless that shit is too far fetched

Givin you are a threat then live it don't talk mess

Niggas in projects ain't feelin you more or less

This hittin your heart yes you miserable or stressed

Get rid of you y'all sets, finish your squad next

Pitiful process with spirits that's part flesh

We rip through your small chest with critical objects

Nigga you waan test the general confess

I'll injure you frauds best in criminal contest

No killa you harmless my birth involves death

Umbilical cords wrecked my little unborn neck

Before I get all dressed in greens and oppress

And walk through the yards vexed I rather graveyard rest





We got the real live spitters in the game of rap!

All you dudes say you nice, but you niggas is wack!

Where my lyricists at? ! Where my lyricists at? !

Where the fuck you niggas at? ! Where the lyricists at? ! RAH!





Totalos tiempo 

Contiene mal aliento I'll kill you tomorrow

Playin with Papoose like I ain; t the rap truth

I'll kill 'em in that booth you doubt it go ask booth

Slay gave me the dice, I hit 'em with the deuce

They started laughin but man this the deuce that killed Bruce





The most original, lyrical criminal, leave you in critical

Torture and ridicule these pitiful rappers, I'm cynical

With the flow that's enormous, my swagger and stage performance

The corners I sold to foreigners, they zoners tryin to extort us

The coca I dropped in waters, supporters I'm crossin borders

Papa blessin me with orders, I never move like the tortoise

I rather move like the Testarossa, eat like I'm in Ponderosa

2008 Keyser Sosa, I'm shittin on all these chokers





We got the real live spitters in the game of rap!

All you dudes say you nice, but you niggas is wack!

Where my lyricists at? ! Where my lyricists at? !

Where the fuck you niggas at? ! Where the lyricists at? !